


a misplaced sense of belonging (found again)

by gothzabini (girl412)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At one point, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Feels, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), detectives or something, i don't know how to tag this it's a wild ride, remus and andromeda try to bust sirius out of azkaban at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl412/pseuds/gothzabini
Summary: Remus gets to know Sirius's cousin Andromeda better over the years.Or: the alternate universe in which Sirius goes to live with Andromeda after he's disowned, and the events that follow from thereon.





	a misplaced sense of belonging (found again)

**Author's Note:**

> oh god it's finally done!!!!! gotta thank the mods for being so understanding and everything, i would probably have dropped out early if not for the support i got from them <3 
> 
> anyone who's heard me talk about this fic will know that i found it really difficult to write. it's also like, the rarest of rare-pairs (i've only ever found one fic which is centered around this pairing before.) writing this was a wild ride, but hopefully you'll enjoy it - contains prisonbusting adventures, general tomfoolery, and whatnot.
> 
> here goes!

The first he hears of her is from Sirius, naturally. They’re going through photo albums together, sitting on James’s bed. James has just shown them his cousin Pinky’s wedding photographs – it was a big deal, apparently, Punjabi weddings were culturally known for being extremely festive. Perhaps given this, seeing the faded polaroids of Black family Christmases isn’t supposed to be interesting. Remus leans forward anyway.  


“And that’s Andromeda,” Sirius says, pointing enthusiastically at one of the girls in the trio. “The only one of my cousins who isn’t batshit crazy.” 

There’s something about her that reminds Remus of Sirius – she looks bored, for one, and her eyes glint with well-meaning mischief. Next to her, Narcissa looks more sullen than usual, as if she’s been forced to drink spoiled milk. Bellatrix, the third sister, looks downright cruel, her eyes alight too but with something that looks vaguely threatening. Remus imagines that she is the sort of person who would snap the wings off butterflies with her fingers just for a laugh.

Andromeda sees him looking through the picture, or at least, it feels like that to Remus. She waves at him, and he waves back.

“You’d get along with Andi,” Sirius says to Remus. “She’s a stickler for rules and things, too. Graduated last year, was Head Girl before that.”

This is first year, and it’s just for a moment. Remus doesn’t think it’s going to be life changing. In fact, he doesn’t even think it’s particularly memorable, until –

 

 

“Hello, I’m here for Sirius Black,” the young woman says, and Remus struggles to place her. She looks at him and at James, who is standing next to him, one arm still curled around Remus’s shoulder almost protectively.

“You’re related to Sirius?” James asks, his eyes wary. 

Remus has a sudden moment of recognition, but she responds before he can.

“I’m his cousin Andromeda,” she says. “Professor McGonagall wanted to meet me in her office about something. You must be James and Remus, yes?”

“Yeah!” James says. He seems to have warmed up to her already.

“Have you seen Siri anywhere?” she asks.

“He went down to the kitchens, I think,” Remus says. The last thing he remembers is Sirius making a joke about how his stomach had a life of his own, poking it menacingly with his index finger when it growled.

“Thank you,” Andromeda says, giving Remus a genuine smile. Remus doesn’t think anyone has smiled at him like that before –  like they’re both in on some kind of secret. It makes him feel more grown up. 

She heads off in the direction of the kitchens, and James gives Remus a thoughtful look.

“Did you notice she calls him Siri?” James asks, grinning in a way that can only be a prelude to mischief. “D’you think we can get away with that, too?” 

“Doubt it,” Remus responds. “After all, he calls her _Andi_. Maybe it’s a family thing.” 

“I still want in,” James complains. “Nicknames are the height of cool. He can call me Jamie if he wants.” 

“Why would he want to do that?” Remus asks, slightly confused by the turn of events.

“You can call me Jamie too,” James announces. “And we’ll call Peter Petey, and you can be Remy.” 

“Call me Remy again, and I’ll guillotine you. I mean it, James Potter.” 

“Fine, you can be Moony, then. Good plan?” 

Remus sighs. Every now and then he reflects on his friendships and wonders whether he’s made a grave mistake in his selection of candidates. This is one of those times.

James seems to sense what he’s thinking and runs a hand through Remus’s hair.

“Chin up, Moony,” he says. “Remember we love you.” 

“You’re the worst,” Remus says, but he’s smiling.

 

So that’s Andromeda. Sirius talks about her a lot. She’s one of the only family members he feels safe around – Remus knows there are less than three people who make that list. Sirius talks about her reliability, how she’d always been there for him, unflinching. How she’s all about decorum but can break the rules as well as anyone else. One night when he’s drunk, he tells Remus that he wishes that she were his mother. It’s a secret for Remus’s ears alone, and Remus knows that.

 

When they’re in fifth year, Andromeda cuts all ties with most of her family, leaving in order to pursue higher studies at a Muggle university. The family pronounces her dead, despite her being alive – Remus supposes it’s because she _is_ dead to them. Sirius is more unbalanced than ever, having been forbidden from contacting her. Remus suspects things are getting worse at home for Sirius, not that Sirius would ever tell anyone if this were the case. It’s the small things. The way he constantly watches his back. The way he ignores Regulus with more iron than ever before. The way he flinches when the family owl gives him mail, and never opens these letters at the breakfast table. When Sirius tells Snape about Remus’s secret, Remus can almost understand why he did it – Sirius has spent months in a daze, not getting enough sleep, jumping at loud noises, generally unravelling. Something had to snap, eventually. It’s just a pity that that something had to be Remus.

 

Remus is certainly angry. He thinks he will never forgive Sirius, never trust him again. Then, during the summer between fifth year and sixth, he gets a letter on the morning before the full moon. His gut feeling gives him reason to be nervous, and he’s never had a reason to not trust his instinct.

He opens the envelope with shaking hands, surprised to see handwriting he’s never seen before addressing him by name. In looping calligraphy and on a thick paper that smells like dust and roses is a plea of utmost urgency. It goes a little like this: 

_Remus,_

_Apologies for this letter –  I know you are not expecting to receive such mail, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news. Sirius is in a bad way and could do with some support from people who care about him. I’ve heard that James is in India, visiting relatives, and Peter’s sister’s wedding preparation is taking up most of Peter’s time, which makes you the only one of Sirius’s friends in a position to visit him. He is currently staying with me, at my house (you shall find the address enclosed in this letter.)  Please come as soon as you possibly can. I would not say this if it were not a matter of severe urgency._

_Regards,_

_Andromeda._

Remus shows his mother the letter, and she agrees that he can go visit Sirius the very next day. Remus spends the day worrying about Sirius, wishing he could go immediately and check on his best friend. When night sets in, the wolf is as agitated as it gets, and he wakes up on the next morning too torn up to go anywhere. This results in him spending another day at home.

 

 

Andromeda is beautiful when she’s angry.

Remus hates that he thinks this as she yells at him when she opens the door. He’s still tired from the moon, and he feels like his mind is full of cotton. He’s vaguely aware that he should be worried about Sirius, or be more observant of the house he’s in, but his mind will not co-operate.

Her eyes blaze, and in a detached moment of clarity he thinks, “ _Shit, this must be why James goes after Lily. Because the whole ‘she hates your guts’ thing can actually be rather hot._ ” 

“Remus Lupin,” she says, sounding for all the world like an upset teacher. “As _scintillating_ as it is that you’ve _finally decided_ to show up here today, where the hell were you when you were actually needed?”  
  


Remus doesn’t say anything, but the barb hurts. He isn’t at Sirius’s beck and call, and ever since the prank, he thinks he’s never owed Sirius anything less. 

 

“I don’t know what went on between you both,” she’s saying, and she’s terrifying, but Remus turns into a monster each month, which is more frightening, so it takes a lot more than an angry Andromeda Black to scare him. “I don’t know _why_ Sirius was so hesitant about letting you know he was injured. There’s absolutely nothing that can excuse your not being here _the evening I sent the letter,_ I told you it was an emergency, and I don’t even hear from you in response. What, are you a werewolf or something, to be unavailable day before yesterday? Because that’s the only reason I can think of, and that’s utter bullshit, Lupin.” 

Remus takes an involuntary step back, his breath catching in his throat. His back hits the doorframe, and he winces without meaning to.

Andromeda’s eyes widen. She’s obviously noticed that he isn’t contradicting her.

Remus is saved from having to respond by the timely arrival of Sirius, who makes a surprised and choked noise when he sees him. Andromeda turns to face Sirius, and Sirius manages to say, “ _Moony._ You came.”  His voice is barely audible, and sounds incredibly hoarse. Remus feels something heavy settle in his stomach. 

“Padfoot, you idiot, of course I came,” Remus says easily, walking past Andromeda as if she isn’t even there and gently giving Sirius a hug. “Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t deserve you,” Sirius mumbles into Remus’s shoulder.

Andromeda clears her throat, and Remus stiffens. Sirius doesn’t seem too concerned.

“Sirius,” she says. “Is it true that Remus is a werewolf?” 

Now Sirius is looking concerned, too.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, giving Remus an apologetic look. “But he’s my friend, and I want him to stay here, and if you ask him to leave, I’m going with him.” His tone brooks no argument, even though his voice is weak.

“Pads, rest your throat,” Remus says. “You need to get well as soon as possible.” 

“You’re in no state to go anywhere,” Andromeda says at the same time, but her tone isn’t harsh. She seems to be lost in thought. 

“It seems I owe you an apology, Remus,” she says finally. “You are, of course, welcome to stay here for as long as you wish, or as long as Sirius needs.”

Remus doesn’t know what to say to that, so he merely hums in agreement.

“I’m going to fix lunch,” Andromeda says. “Siri, take Remus to your room, alright? I’ll call you both when it’s done.”

Sirius nods, and takes Remus’s hand in his, leading him away easily. They don’t talk, even though they probably should. It’s not as tense as Remus would’ve anticipated, though. He supposes in some way, he’s missed Sirius’s company.

Dinner is a tense affair. Something about Andromeda’s mannerisms are more stilted than usual, and Sirius is quieter than Remus has ever seen him. This extends to beyond not talking; he’s holding himself together like a scared animal, or something. As all tense moments eventually do, it snaps when Andromeda seems to gather her nerves and gives Remus a critical look.

“What exactly are your intentions? With regards to Sirius?” she asks, her tone stern.

Remus feels his eyebrows raise, almost of their own accord.

“He’s my best friend,” Remus says carefully. “I thought that was clear.” 

Sirius is watching the exchange in a way that looks overly anxious to Remus.

Something in Andromeda’s gaze shifts. 

“I’d assumed you were…….together,” she says.

Sirius is resolutely not meeting his eyes.

“No,” Remus says. “No, that’s not –” 

He cuts himself off for a minute to think.

“I mean, I’d be lucky to be with Sirius, anyone would,” Remus says, his voice even. “But Padfoot’s more like a brother to me than anything, you know?” 

Sirius nods.

“Andi, we’re like, family. Not… not whatever else you were thinking.” 

Andromeda nods, seemingly content to leave it at that. Except no, she’s a Black, and Remus’s luck has always been shit.

“You always seemed to be in love with him,” she says to Remus.

“Like I said, he’s my best friend,” Remus shoots back. “Of course I love him, just not how you’re implying. Why else would I be here, now?” 

“Actually, Moony,” Sirius says in the tone that he usually uses only for ideas he knows the other marauders are going to shoot down. “Why _did_ you come? Merlin knows I don’t deserve it.” 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Remus says, cutting in before Andromeda can. “You made a mistake once, and you hurt me, but I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here. I truly believe you can do better.”

“I didn’t mean to tell him,” Sirius says, the words slipping out. Andromeda, as if sensing this is sensitive conversation, takes her plate and heads into the kitchen.

“I _know_ , Sirius.” 

“No, I mean, it wasn’t something I had control over,” Sirius says. 

“I thought so,” Remus says. “And it hurt, and I don’t know how long it’ll take me to put it behind me but I’m willing to forgive you on the condition that you never do anything like that again.”

“Marauder’s honour,” Sirius says, reaching out across the table and clasping Remus’s hand firmly in his own. “I would rather _die_ than betray you, Moons, I swear.”

Remus clasps the hand offered to him, holds it close.

Some ugly knotted thing in his chest seems to loosen up, in that moment. 

“I want to trust you,” Remus murmurs.

“Then trust me,” Sirius says, meeting Remus’s eyes.

Remus nods. 

They clear the table together, and Sirius takes Remus’s wrist in his hand and leads him to the guest bedroom. They’ve shared beds many times, usually whenever either of them has a difficult night – no questions asked. 

In the dark, with the lights out, Sirius begins to talk, softly, detailing out what exactly his parents had been doing, what they’d said, all of it. Remus holds him close, through Sirius’s pained explanation of the threats and the ultimatum and the unforgiveables. He nearly misses Sirius’s murmured whisper of “I’m queer, Moony,” but he hears it, and tightens his grip on Sirius ever so slightly. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. 

Sirius falls asleep first, and his even breathing eventually soothes Remus to sleep, too.

 

When they wake up in the morning, Andromeda’s already made them breakfast.

“Everything okay, boys?” she asks.

Remus smiles at Sirius. “As okay as it can ever be.” 

And surprisingly enough, it is. There’s no tension, nothing. Andromeda even seems slightly more warm towards Remus, and when Sirius talks, he’s as mischievous as ever. It’s like a regular family breakfast.

It only gets better from there.

Remus and Sirius spend the day with Andromeda, helping her sift through her med school things. Sirius is oddly fascinated by biology, and Remus finds it interesting how muggle science and magical dynamics come together in making entities what they are. 

They order takeout for lunch, and they all make dinner together. After dinner, they play a card game, and drink alcoholic drinks (Andromeda dilutes them a lot, because ‘ _you boys are still young_ ’) and maybe that’s Remus’s undoing. He usually doesn’t get drunk, because of werewolf metabolism, but Sirius slips him a tequila with orange juice and that one mostly does him in.

He’s not drunk, per say, just tipsy enough to feel like he’s floating. Tipsy enough that he doesn’t look away when Andromeda laughs, that he doesn’t flinch when she hands over the cards, that he steals glances at her when her head is turned far more openly than he would have done sober. They’re playing poker, and Remus thinks Andromeda’s laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard. It makes him smile. He’s out of it enough that he doesn’t notice Sirius’s eyes on him the whole time.

The next morning, when he wakes up, Sirius wordlessly hands him a hangover potion, which Remus chugs down like it’s the only thing keeping him from dying. He feels much better, but doesn’t get out of bed. 

Sirius sits down beside him, takes one of his hands.

“So, Moons,” he says softly. “How long have you fancied Andi?”

Remus swallows audibly, looks away. He isn’t sure why he’s embarrassed, but he does know that he doesn’t want to talk about this with Sirius. 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs into the other direction from where Sirius is.

“Hey,” Sirius says. He sounds gentle, kind, softer, the way he usually only sounds after particularly rough moons. “Remus, it’s okay. You don’t need to be ashamed, or anything.” 

Remus presses his face against the pillow. “She’s seven years older than us, Sirius. She’s trying to get guardianship over you. It’s like having feelings for your best friend’s mother.”

“It’s really not,” Sirius insists. One of his hands is on Remus’s shoulder blade, and he’s massaging patterns into the skin there the way he usually does when Remus needs to be comforted. “Andi’s more a big sister to me than anything else. And seven years isn’t _that_ much, Moony.”

Remus closes his eyes. “It is right now, isn’t it?”

“You’re not thinking of getting with her _now_ , are you?” 

“Of course not,” Remus says, thinking somewhat bitterly, _I’m not thinking of getting with her anytime, she deserves better than a werewolf who isn’t ever going to be able to hold a steady job._

Sirius sighs. “It’s perfectly okay, come on. You’ve got time; if you wait it out it’ll either go away, or you can always ask her out when you’re in your twenties?” 

“Maybe,” Remus says noncommittedly. “You’re really okay with this?” 

“Moons,” Sirius says softly. “Andi’s the best person in my family. If it had to be one of us Blacks, I’m glad it’s her.” 

Remus takes his hand wordlessly, gives it a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t mean to, but he falls asleep again. 

 

The rest of summer goes by with companionship unlike anything Remus’s ever felt before except with the Marauders at school, but this is different. It’s different because the Marauders are a team, but Sirius and Andromeda are like family. Andromeda, despite seeming uptight and strict (“ _Like a little professor McGonagall,”_ Sirius had said once) is actually as much a troublemaker as Remus is. When she catches him lighting a joint and takes it from him, he thinks he’s in trouble. He doesn’t expect her to take an expert puff off it, and sit next to him so that their shoulders are touching, and gently give him the joint. They pass it back and forth until it burns out.

When Sirius buys a leather jacket second-hand from a Muggle shop, Andromeda scouts her apartment for brooches and pins for him.  She helps him with his eyeliner, and sometimes when Remus and Sirius feel restless at night, she sings them French lullabies while playing the guitar. Her voice is nice – different, slightly deeper and rougher at the edges than singers Remus usually listens to, but something about the timbre of her voice soothes him. 

They tell Andromeda all about the Marauder Map, and share the charm work behind it with her, in theory, while she listens, fascinated. Some days they just read academic journals together, discuss their opinions on them. She thinks they’re both really smart, tells Remus he would make a brilliant professor. Remus shoves away the bitterness and thanks her, but she can probably tell what he’s thinking, because she puts a hand on his shoulder and says, “Remus, you’re studying at Hogwarts despite your condition. I’m sure your teachers will vouch for you, and you can continue your education. Most educational institutions accept people on merit alone, and Salazar’s sake, Remus, you’ve got that.” 

Remus opens up to Sirius too, somehow. The proximity of the summer makes it easier for them to tell each other things. Sirius earnestly shares what Remus is considering “ _gay escapades from the life of Sirius Black_ ” with him, telling him about cute boys and sharing both his euphoria and his insecurities with Remus. Remus in turn, opens up about Andromeda, talks about some of the things she’s said or done that made him feel safe and warm. It’s odd, how much closer he feels to Sirius this summer. In a way, he feels closer to Sirius than James is – they’ve both always understood each other’s trauma, having less than perfect lives in ways different from Peter and James. But this is different. It’s somehow more significant than sharing the dorm, even.

The three of them spend a lot of time listening to music together, as well. Andromeda gets her records out and they end up sitting in the garden listening to rock and roll. Sometimes they drive through the city. Sometimes they go to the terrace and drink cups of tea. Andromeda shares stories of her time at Hogwarts, tells them things about the professors that they wouldn’t know otherwise. 

It’s memories of that summer, of the solace and comfort of it all that Remus carries with him much later. Through their sixth year, he lets himself remember that golden, glorious time. During the summer before seventh year, he gets permission to spend the part of the summer that the moons don’t fall under with Sirius and Andromeda again.

This summer is similar to the last one, except a little grimmer. They cannot pretend that the war isn’t approaching. Andromeda shares rumours she’s heard of a secret society and tells them that she isn’t ready to fight. Sirius is initially hurt and disappointed, almost taking it personally, but the three of them spend a night awake talking it out, and Sirius seems to understand it better.

“I just don’t get how she can be at peace, not doing anything,” Sirius confesses to Remus. “I mean, I respect it, and I know why she feels the way she does, but doesn’t it bother her?” 

“Sirius, of course it bothers her,” Remus says sombrely. “That’s why she doesn’t want to get involved. Not everyone wants to jump into things like you.” 

“Oh no, people like you and Andi look before you leap,” Sirius says, smirking. His expression becomes more serious after a moment of quiet contemplation, though.

“I understand everyone does things differently,” Sirius murmurs. “I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t fight, yeah?” 

“That’s alright,” Remus says. “I think James is the same way.” 

“And you?” Sirius asks.

Remus blinks, looks away. “I don’t know,” he says. “I guess we’ll find out.” 

 

They do find out. After school, the four Marauders join the Order of the Phoenix. James and Lily get engaged, and then married. Sirius and Remus get a flat together, mostly because Sirius, in a surprising flash of insight, has realised Remus’s financial condition and how it ties with his lycanthropy. He’d refused to take no for an answer and all but forced Remus to move in with him.

Things are as alright as they can be in a war. People are dying left, right and centre, but they take happiness where they can find it –  James and Lily’s son, Harry, for instance, gives them one more person to fight for.

Everything is going alright, mostly, until Remus begins to go for the missions Dumbledore sets for him in order to interact with other werewolves, mostly the ones in packs who live isolated from mainstream Wizarding society. Werewolf packs are embittered, understandably so. Not only are they unprepared to hear him out and ready to side with Voldemort, they openly ridicule him and often, even threaten him. 

Remus can deal with that. What he can’t deal with is the fact that Sirius doesn’t trust him anymore. They both know that someone on the inside is reporting to Voldemort. Remus has been sworn to secrecy regarding his missions, and can’t afford to tell anyone what he’s doing, where he’s going, where he’s been. Sirius takes that as a sign that Remus might not be trustworthy.

Things escalate one October night when, after another failed mission on Remus’s part, Sirius tells Remus that he either explains what was such a big secret that he couldn’t tell the Order, or he leaves their shared household. Remus hesitates, more hurt that Sirius would even need to _ask._ The moment of hesitation is what makes Sirius snap, and before he knows it, Remus is out on his own, his head full of hurt and pain, Sirius’s accusations and quiet anger somehow worse than if he’d yelled or raised a fist. Remus carries the pain with him.

He doesn’t know where he can go – James and Lily are both going to a safehouse and he can’t possibly impose, Peter’s on some mission none of them know about, and there isn’t anybody else in the Order who he knows well enough to ask a favour from.

It hits him just as the first few raindrops begin to fall – he can go to Andromeda’s. 

Unfortunately, she lives in a primarily Muggle locality, so he knows that he can’t use magic as a shortcut to get to her directly – wouldn’t want to lead the Death Eaters to her, after all. He doesn’t have much Muggle money on him, so he Apparates halfway and then takes a bus to get to her place.

By this time, he’s soaked from the rain and miserable.

Figuring out that he has nothing to lose, he knocks on the door.

It takes her a mere five minutes to open the door.

“Remus Lupin?” she asks, surprised. Remus knows he must look a sight, drenched by the rain, his clothes crumpled, his hair disorderly. It’s been many months since he’s seen her, for her safety and his, but he’s truly desperate. Never mind the flame of longing that pools in his stomach at the thought of her. Besides, in his current dejected state, none of that really matters.

“The one and only,” he says, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice and failing. Her eyes widen as she takes him in, and he feels a little dizzy watching her, in a black nightgown despite it being evening, her hair in a lopsided bun, her make-up barely done. It’s yet another reminder that war isn’t being particularly good to anyone. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, shepherding him in after the identity check. It hits Remus all over again, and he sits down on the floor by her best couch and puts his face in his hands.

“Sirius doesn’t trust me anymore,” he says. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He doesn’t have the courage to meet her eyes. “I’m homeless. There’s nowhere else I can go.” 

“I want to hear the whole story,” Andromeda says, her voice almost ruthless. Remus knows that she will always side with Sirius over him, if it comes to that. Blood is thicker than water, and what not.

“I couldn’t tell him anything,” Remus murmurs. “I was on business for the Order and sworn to secrecy over it. Telling him would endanger my life, and his. But all the secrets got to him, and he now thinks I’m working for the other side.”

“Working for the other side? You?” Andromeda huffs almost angrily. “Is he stupid?”

“Just paranoid,” Remus says softly. “This is war, after all. Lives are being lost on the daily.” 

“If it’s alright with you, I would like to use Legilimency on you for verification,” Andromeda says. Seeing Remus’s instinctual reluctance, she gently puts a hand on his arm. “I believe you, I really do, but it’s as you said. None of us can afford to be too careful. If you want me to trust you, you have to trust me. I promise I won’t tap into any memories or emotions in there without your consent first.” 

Remus nods, and closes his eyes. He feels something warm settle through him, something that feels like summer breeze. Other than Andromeda’s voice in his head every now and then, asking him _Is this alright? Can I access this?_ he almost feels at peace. She’s going through his memories and he knows it, but she’s doing it as gently as possible. Outside her house, thunder crackles. Remus misses Sirius, for the nth time that evening. Being around Andromeda without Sirius as a buffer makes him feel unbalanced. 

“It was supposed to be the three of us against the world,” he says when she’s done.

“Oh, _Remus_ ,” she says, and her voice is sad. He knows she understands, knows that she’s thinking of those summers too. Something inside him feels like it’s coming undone, breaking into tiny pieces.

“I’ll make you some tea. Have a shower in warm water, don’t want you getting pneumonia,” she says, offering him a hand and helping him up. He takes it gratefully.

 

Much later, after he’s had tea, Andromeda says, in a voice that cannot be argued with, “You’re staying here.” 

Remus feels a chill run down his spine, at the power with which she asserts herself. She’s glorious when she gets like this, and he hates that he wants her, but he can’t seem to break out of it. 

He nods, and murmurs a thank you. 

When he’s getting ready for bed, Andromeda says, “You know, if Sirius thought you were the spy, that means that _he_ certainly wasn’t.” 

Remus closes his eyes, feeling the pain of the betrayal like a knife in his chest.

“It doesn’t matter what Sirius is or isn’t,” he says, and he’s aware that he sounds like a wounded animal. “Sirius didn’t trust me. I don’t know if our friendship is salvageable, at this point.” 

“Do you want to be friends with him?” Andromeda asks, and Remus nods without even thinking about it.

“Don’t give up on him, then,” Andromeda says, and Remus closes his eyes, and manages a shaky nod.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Andromeda says, her voice softer. She knows it’s hard for him. He knows that she knows. It doesn’t make the pain go away, but it’s something.

“Come to bed with me,” Remus says.

“Oh?” Andromeda asks, surprise evident in her voice. Remus wants to hit himself in the head.

“Not like that, I just meant,” and he pauses, thinking about how Sirius used to hold him after nightmares sometimes, how out of all the Marauders Sirius was the one who’d touched him most frequently and most casually. How it’s possible that Sirius wouldn’t ever do that again.

“Yes?” Andromeda asks, bringing him back to the moment.

“I meant, to sleep. If you could hold me? I understand if that’s asking too much, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Andromeda thinks over it for a minute, before giving him a little shrug. 

“Fine by me,” she says.

 

They sleep in the master bedroom, enough space in the bed for them to lie together without it being cramped or awkward. Remus, who usually never cries, feels the beginning of a sob beginning to well up in his chest. Andromeda shuffles around, wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer to her, and he moves, pressing his face into her shoulder in an attempt to muffle his sniffling.

“Sorry,” Remus says awkwardly. “I’m not usually like this.” 

Andromeda pats his head with one of her hands. “Remus, I _know_. It’s okay, yeah? I’ll speak to Sirius myself. We’ll all be friends before November comes around.” 

Remus finds himself shaking his head.

“Andi,” he says, and he suddenly realises that he’s never called her that before, ever.

She doesn’t seem too perturbed, though.

“Yes?” 

“Not yet, please. I need some time to gather myself,” he says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

“Sirius really did a number on you, huh,” Andromeda says softly.

“It’s not his fault,” Remus murmurs. “War does that to people.” 

“Indeed,” she agrees. 

“He’s done a lot for me,” Remus says, closing his eyes. “I just need time. So that I can be rational about this, and so that he can be rational about this too.” 

Andromeda hums. 

“Remus,” she says gently but firmly, “if you want to talk about this, I’m here for you, alright?” 

“Thank you Andromeda,” he says, moving awkwardly from her arms so that they were lying side to side, as close as two people can get without their bodies touching. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Goodnight,” she says, and he echoes it back to her.

He’s awake much after she falls asleep. It’s almost possible for him to be grateful for the moon, as moonlight from the window illuminates the side of her face.  Her hair is spread out on the pillow in a way that reminds him slightly of Sirius. She looks almost otherworldly, and he can’t believe he’s lying here next to her.

 

Remus spends the next few days at Andromeda’s house, disengaging. He doesn’t go for any more of Dumbledore’s missions, knowing them to be futile and knowing himself to be in a state of emotional fragility that would just make him more vulnerable. He’s aware of Andromeda keeping a keen eye on him, her concern palatable. Andromeda is a firm believer in conflict resolution, and Remus knows he cannot lie low with her indefinitely. They decide that Remus will talk to Sirius in the first week of November, sort everything out.

That never happens.

The deaths of James and Lily Potter shake Remus to the core, and more horrifying is the news that Sirius somehow betrayed them, led them to their deaths. Even in his sadness, Remus knows that it’s impossible for Sirius to have done so – for Sirius to betray James would have been like Sirius cutting his hands off and throwing them in the Thames; maybe more difficult than that, even.

Then comes the news of Sirius having killed Peter over it, and being sentenced for life in Azkaban.

“Something about this doesn’t sound right,” Andromeda insists numerous times, but there is nothing they can do at this point – there were eye-witnesses, after all.

Remus agrees each time she brings it up, in a weird numb state from having lost all his best friends in less than two weeks.

“Andi,” he says, more than once. “We should investigate.” 

Usually, she hums in agreement and looks away. Maybe she has tears in her eyes, maybe she just doesn’t like the vulnerability of someone else seeing her upset. Remus has never been certain.

However, one evening in the last week of November, Andromeda’s cleaning out the house, and one of Sirius’s old journals falls out from a cleverly concealed cabinet in the corner of the ceiling. It falls and lands on its spine, popping open to a page with a photograph on it – a photograph of the four boys stood together, all of them laughing. Sirius had one of his hands slung around James’s shoulder, the other hand slung around Peter’s. Remus was on the other side of James, who’d looped an arm around his waist. Every now and then James would whisper to Remus, who would laugh before covering his mouth with a hand.

“Sirius looks like these were the best days of his life,” Andi says, showing the photo to Remus.

Remus nods. “They were.” 

Remus and Andi are both silent for a minute, and then she puts a hand on his knee thoughtfully, gently.

“You’re right,” she says. “We have to investigate. Something about this doesn’t sit well with me.” 

“Let’s visit the crime scenes,” Andi says with the sort of smile that reminds Remus that she’d sorted Slytherin.

 

“Let’s list out everything we know,” Remus says once they reach Godric’s Hollow, which is uncannily silent. 

“What do we know about James and Lily, Sirius and Peter?” Andromeda’s holding a checklist. Remus remembers that she’d been Head Girl and remembers that she knows he’d been a Prefect in Fifth Year. He knows they’re both making an investigation out of it because they would probably break down from the sadness otherwise.

“Sirius, James and Peter are illegal animagi,” Remus whispers. They’d sworn to secrecy, but it hardly mattered anymore. “Sirius was a big black dog, James was a majestic stag, and Peter was a rat – ‘bout this small, you could hold him in your hands.” 

“To help you with transformations?” Andi asks, and Remus nods.

“What else?” she asks, after making a note on her list.

“Uh, James and Lily were targeted by …him… because of a Prophecy about Harry.”

“Harry, Sirius’s godson, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Remus, this really makes no sense. Siri adored that kid,” Andi says, and she sounds shaken.

“Andi, I know. The more I think about it, the less likely it seems that Sirius is guilty. But Peter died, right? Eyewitnesses reported it?” 

Andromeda’s brow is creased into a frown. “They never found a body, apparently?” 

Remus nods. “Just a finger. Not really Sirius’s usual style.” 

“And wait, Peter was standing near the gutter area, by the sidewalk?” 

Remus frowns too. “I think so. Why is this important?” 

Andromeda looks up, her expression manic. “Because, don’t you think a rat could fit into a gutter very easily?” 

Remus’s jaw drops. “Merlin’s fucking arsecrack.”

Andromeda’s jaw also drops. “Remus Lupin, _language._ ” 

Remus smiles. “Picked that one up from Sirius.” 

“Just as I feared,” Andromeda says, smiling back. “Now, do we investigate the Pettigrew gutter?” 

Remus nods, and takes her hand. She side-alongs him smoothly, casting all the relevant disapparition charms to ensure that curious Muggles don’t witness them scouting around the area.

He’s reluctant to let go of her hand once they reach.

“Okay, so Sirius stood here, right?” Andromeda asks, running over to one spot on the side of the street. Remus nods, he recognizes it from the news reports they’ve been poring over.

“And Peter stood here,” he says, moving across the road to the right spot.

“I really fucking need some chalk,” Andromeda says.

Remus pulls some out of his pocket, throws it across. “There you go.” 

“You just carry chalk around with you?” 

“I’m an aspiring professor,” Remus says, smirking. “James and Sirius insisted that I do this, at least.” 

“Nutters, the lot of you,” Andi murmurs, bending over and drawing a cross over where she’s standing. She then crosses the road over to where Remus is standing and draws a cross over his spot, too.  As he watches, she murmurs a spell, and the chalk whizzes out of her hands, drawing connections and calculating trigonometric angles.

“Magic and muggle science are a deathly duo when you use them together,” Andromeda says, noticing Remus’s awed expression.

“I’m thinking anything _you_ do is deathly,” he says. “This is fascinating, though.” 

Andromeda smiles, and then crouches over a series of calculations. 

“Rem, look at these.” 

Remus ignores the flutter in his stomach at the nickname and squats down next to her, viewing the equations and calculations that the chalk is scrawling out against the concrete.

“I’m not much good at physics,” Remus admits. “But from these it seems almost impossible that any shot Sirius would’ve thrown could hit Peter _and_ those thirteen muggles he allegedly killed?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Andromeda says. “We can’t calculate the exact tangent of this angle, but there is _no_ scientific way that one spell by itself could take all of them out.” 

 

They put their arguments together smoothly, trigonometry and all included. Andromeda and Remus show up at Hogwarts, demanding to speak to the Headmaster. They spend an hour detailing out their hypothesis, showing their evidence. Once they’re done, Dumbledore is silent. After a minute, he shakes his head. 

“Your evidence is rather inconclusive, though I hate to say it,” he says. “Certainly you have assurance in the Auror departments to handle this affair?” 

“Headmaster, with all due respect, he didn’t even get a trial,” Andi says. Remus can see that she’s simmering with anger but managing to put on a calm front that’s convincing to anyone who doesn’t know her. 

“Exactly,” Remus says, discreetly putting a hand on Andromeda’s kneecap, with the intent of comforting her. She places her hand on his, equally discreetly. “We’re merely asking that Sirius’s sentence be reconsidered, in light of this new evidence.” 

“Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore says, his eyes twinkling. Remus suddenly hates him.  “I am not sure you understand how irrational this will seem to a tribunal. After all, your associations with Sirius Black and the fact that young Ms. Black here is his close family do not look favourable on you. Do you not understand biases, Ms. Black, Mr. Lupin? I am sorry if this sounds harsh, but you must understand, the Ministry will not be sympathetic to your case. I see no need to give you false hope.” 

“But at least give us a _chance_ – ” Andromeda explodes.

“Andi,” Remus murmurs under his breath. “Leave it. Thank you for your time, Headmaster.” 

He steers her out of the room, and once they’re out of hearing distance from the Headmaster’s office, he says, “It just isn’t worth it. He’s not even ready to listen.” 

“You’re right,” Andromeda says. She sighs, runs her hands through her hair with frustration. “We just hit a dead end here.”  

“So now what?” Remus asks. “We have proof, but who will believe us?”

Andromeda smiles, the look on her face bordering on sinister. “Aren’t you precious. I might’ve been disowned, but I still know how to manipulate the way the Blacks do.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“Lucius Malfoy was recently appointed to Hogwarts’ Board of Governors,” Andi says. “A very senior position, too. He could easily get Albus sacked from being the Headmaster if we called in a favour.”

“And in what universe can _we_ call in favours from Lucius Malfoy?” Remus asks, incredulous. 

“In the same universe in which his dear wife Cissa is hysterical because someone kidnapped her darling son Draco, of course,” Andi says smoothly. 

“Kidnapping and blackmail, ingenious,” Remus says. “Merlin, Andi, you should’ve been in our year. You would’ve made a brilliant Marauder.” 

“I think I’d have passed, thanks,” she says. “But thank you. You’re the only person from who I can take that as a compliment.” 

Remus finds himself blushing, before he remembers that he’s the only one _left._ The pain isn’t new but it hits him like it’s the first time all over again.

“You okay?” Andi asks, putting an arm around his shoulder.

He selfishly leans against her. “They were my best friends,” he says hollowly.

“Yes, I know,” she says, and then gently kisses the top of his head. Remus forgets how to breathe for a minute. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” she says, letting him go but holding his hand in hers, “I didn’t have any best friends whatsoever. I think you and Sirius are the closest I’ve gotten to that.” 

“We’ll get him back,” Remus promises. Her hands tighten around him. “So, how do we go about this?” 

“It’s easy,” Andromeda says. “By which I mean, it’s very difficult. We’ll attend a posh pureblood party – just sneak in. We can pretend I’m Bella, polyjuice you into Lestrange. Or no, that might be too obvious. We’ll have disguises, we’ll blend right in. I’ll make small talk with Lucius and Narcissa, and you’ll lure Draco away. He likes those green apple candies, I think, if my overheard information is worth anything. I’ll join you in a gender-neutral bathroom and we’ll apparate to Sirius’s villa in France.”

“The one Alphard left him?” Remus asks, and Andromeda nods. 

 

The Peverell Housewarming Ceremony is easy to sneak into, given how familiar Andi is with pureblood rituals.  Their disguises are simple, but deceptive. Remus thinks that Andromeda would’ve been a great Unspeakable, and he tells her as she gently fixes him a blonde moustache and covers his scars with foundation. She laughs, hits his shoulder affectionately. It’s certainly paid off though, Remus reflects. Nobody gives them a second glance. 

“I used to believe this when I was younger,” she tells Remus as they go to get drinks. “The whole propaganda thing. I swallowed it up. Of course, at Hogwarts, I got to meet different types of people, and realised we’re all not that different or that special, after all.” 

She presses her shoulder against his. Andromeda’s a tall woman, taller than Sirius even, and her mouth is at level with his ear without her needing to bend or tiptoe. 

“Put your hand around my waist,” she whispers. “That’s etiquette around these parts.” 

“Alright, whatever you say, darling,” Remus exclaims loudly, with all the intonation of a middle-aged man. 

Andromeda chuckles, passes it off as a giggle. Their disguises have made him look older and made her look younger, but apparently nobody in Pureblood society will raise an eyebrow at that. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already drunk, love,” she says, shepherding him away from the drinks table. Under her breath, she whispers, “Do you see Draco anywhere?” 

Remus scans the room for blonde haired people, finds them in abundance. Eventually, he notices Narcissa, who’s wearing a white lace gown and looking dainty, holding Lucius’s hands. Lucius is wearing the latest model of wizarding robes, all navy blue. Draco’s outfit is a miniature of his father’s, and as Remus watches, he’s approached by two children and goes off to play with them.

“Andi,” he murmurs. “Don’t stare but, to our left a little, forefront.” 

“I don’t know how I understood that, but understood I did,” she says. “Okay, change in plan. Head over to the restroom. He’s separated from his parents, which means we don’t need to distract them. I know what to say to him to get him to come with us. I’ll join you at the spot.”

“Are you sure this will work?” Remus asks.

“Positive. I grew up with Cissy, after all. I daresay I know what she would’ve told her son about how to behave in public.” 

Remus does not say that sounds scary, but he supposes that his face shows it, because Andi laughs at him. She leans forward a little, and whispers, “Some old people are staring at us,” before kissing him.

Despite the disguise, and everything else, it’s Andromeda in his arms, and he knows it. She smells like oranges and vanilla, and it’s strangely comforting. He kisses her back like he’s in love with her, which doesn’t take much pretending at all. 

When they draw apart, Remus excuses himself from the hall, and hides out in their pre-determined restroom. 

“I’m so glad you didn’t bring the rat,” someone is saying in one of the stalls. 

There’s a soft laugh, and then a man’s voice that Remus vaguely recognises murmurs something along the lines of, “Fred and George, you know how it is. They think it’s the funniest thing ever.” 

“Arthur, come on now,” the voice responds.  “Boys will be boys. I like my nephews to be mischievous.” 

_The rat,_ Remus thinks. _Maybe we could find the rat, then we’d have more evidence._

The idea leaves his mind almost as soon as he thinks it. How does one find a single rat in the whole of the United Kingdom? Assuming that’s where Peter is, of course. He could be anywhere. 

Remus ends up waiting in the stall for twenty minutes before Andi walks in, taps on the door. She’s carrying Draco over her shoulder. One of his hands is fisted in her hair, and he looks like he’s asleep. 

“No time to waste,” she whispers. “Apparate us, go.” 

Remus puts an arm around her and does, easily. 

 

Sirius’s villa in France is heavily warded and carefully hidden, but it lets Remus and Andromeda in easily, without any resistance. Andromeda hands Remus baby Draco, and Remus cradles the baby to his chest carefully. 

“How did you get him?” 

“There’s a Black family song we sing,” Andi tells him. “It’s meant to help you ascertain relatives during trying times, so that you know your allies. I sang it to him, told him to come with me. He fell asleep on my shoulder.” 

Draco begins to stir, the Apparition probably having unsettled him. 

Remus sits on the couch, holding Draco to his chest carefully. 

“I’ll make tea,” Andi says, leaving him with the semi-awake infant on the sofa. 

“Fa’her?” Draco says. Remus feels something ache in his chest. 

“No, little one,” he says softly. “I’m your Aunt’s best friend.” 

“Who’sit?” 

Remus smiles despite himself. “Your Mum’s sister, yeah.” 

“Fam’ly,” Draco confirms, settling himself against Remus’s shoulder. Remus hums in confirmation, acting as if this entire interaction isn’t tearing him apart inside. 

“Lul’by,” Draco says softly, so softly that Remus almost doesn’t hear it. “Want.” 

“You want me to sing you to sleep?” 

“Please,” Draco says, sounding much too old for a toddler as he says it. 

Remus only knows Welsh lullabies, but he supposes that doesn’t matter just then. He’s singing softly to Draco, who closes his eyes, when Andi joins them with two mugs of tea. 

“Child minding looks good on you,” she says, sitting on the couch next to Remus. “You’ll make a great father one day.” 

Remus doesn’t stop singing, but he gives her a look. A _yeah, like that’s ever going to happen_ look. 

She reads it for what it is. 

“Come on Remus, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Remus closes his eyes, still singing. 

Andromeda reaches out and gently pulls the moustache off his face.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him. The look on her face is quietly contemplative. 

He leans against her, and she puts the moustache on the coffee table and puts her arm around him. He closes his eyes, letting Draco’s soft snores and Andromeda’s presence comfort him. She smells like home, and it calms him more than he can ever explain.

“Andi,” he says, as he’s falling into sleep.

“Yeah?” 

“The full’s in 2 weeks.” 

“We’ll get Sirius back before, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Remus murmurs. 

 

When Remus wakes up, it’s to find himself wrapped up in a blanket. Andromeda’s feeding Draco something from a bowl, with a wooden spoon. 

“Good morning, Mr Lupin,” she says, raising an eyebrow. Remus smiles. “It’s cereal for breakfast, accompanied by fruits. I’ve sent Cissa the letter. That said... as fetching as you look with pale blonde hair, I liked you better before.” 

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep in costume,” Remus mutters, about to say ‘fuck’ aloud but catching himself in time as he watches Draco burble excitedly on the table counter. “I’ll just, go change out of it. Become myself again.” 

He returns in one of Sirius’s old band shirts, and loose flannel pyjamas. Andi’s giving him a look he can’t read, so he ignores her and sits next to Draco, who curiously puts a hand on one of the scars on his face.

“May I?” he asks, and Remus, amused but unsure of what Draco’s intending to do, raises an eyebrow.

“What do you want to do, Draco?” 

“Touch,” Draco answers. Seemingly forgetting that he’d been asking a question, he points his index finger at the scar and begins to prod at it curiously. “Poke, poke.” 

“Draco dear, that’s not very nice,” Andromeda chides. 

“Andi it’s okay, I don’t mind,” Remus says. He takes Draco’s hand in his hand, though.

“You might want to go easy on me. _This_ is my face,” he says sternly. 

“Sorry Mr. Lup,” Draco says, which only makes Remus smile. 

“It’s _Lupin_ , but you can call me Remus,” he says gently, only to watch Draco attempt to say his name with limited success.

Andromeda’s watching them thoughtfully.

“You ever think about Harry?” 

“I haven’t heard anything about him,” Remus admits. “They said Dumbledore was keeping him safe, though after the way we were dismissed I’m inclined to be a little unsettled about that.” 

Andi hums. 

“Lily has a sister, I believe,” Remus says. “I don’t know much about the family, but maybe Harry’s with them.” 

“I hope they’re good people,” Andi says, watching Draco play with his food on the table. 

“Yeah, me too,” Remus says. “Once we have Sirius back, we’ll help him get custody of Harry. It’s what James and Lily would’ve wanted.” 

 

They meet Narcissa that afternoon – or rather, Andromeda goes to meet Narcissa that afternoon, taking a photograph with her of them and Draco, asleep on the sofa. She’s gone for four hours, and when she gets back, she looks oddly teary. Remus, who’s spent the day reading picture books for Draco, sits up attentively when she enters. 

“She’s speaking to Lucius,” Andi says. 

She walks in and seats herself right next to him, their shoulders brushing. She puts her head on his shoulder, and he squeezes her hand gently. 

“Motherhood has made her soft,” Andromeda says. “She said something about how she’d do anything for family, that she understood it better now.” 

Remus puts an arm around her, holds her close. Draco makes a burbling noise and puts one hand in Andromeda’s hair. 

“We’ll get him a trial, at the least,” Andi whispers. 

“Of course,” Remus says back.

 

Lucius Malfoy must’ve had serious words, because in two days’ time, Remus and Andromeda find themselves at the courtroom, waiting for Sirius. When they enter, Andromeda wordlessly hands Draco over to Narcissa, and Remus pretends to ignore the relief he sees in Narcissa’s face as she gently cradles her son to herself. Draco seems to be doing his best to detail how much fun he had at his Aunt’s place, so there’s that, if nothing else. 

Andromeda and Remus aren’t allowed to meet Sirius before the trials commence, so they sit in the stands. The courtroom begins to fill in with people.

“The Weasleys were witnesses,” Andromeda whispers to him, nodding discreetly in their direction as they enter. “They’ll be offering testimony, too.”

At the time that the trial is scheduled to begin, the curtains draw back, and neither Remus nor Andromeda can hold back a gasp as they see Sirius, who’s standing by the podium. Sirius’s usually immaculate hair is in complete disarray, and he looks ten years older than he actually is, and extraordinarily tired. Yet, he holds himself straight and there’s clarity in his eyes. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Remus and Andromeda in the stands yet. 

“We’ll be okay,” Remus whispers, and Andi nods.

 

Everything proceeds like clockwork. Sirius takes Veritaserum and tells everyone gathered that he wasn’t the secret keeper for the Potters, after all. He details out things, and Andromeda and Remus get to talk after him and use their hypothesis alongside his narrative to back him up.

They’re all smiling when they get back to their seats, but right then things get better.

There’s a scream from the audience, and then one of the Weasleys mutters, “Fred and George, I swear to Merlin– ”  and as Remus watches, a grey rat runs through the crowd almost chaotically.

Remus feels no guilt in Petrifying it. With the eyes of everyone in the courtroom on him, he walks up to the rat, keenly aware of the silence around him. He picks up the rat, and inspects its markings.

“I’m certain this is Peter Pettigrew,” Remus says into the silence.

“Prove it,” someone from the jury says.

Remus smiles, showing his canines. “With pleasure.” 

And he does. The case is dismissed, Peter is sent to the holding cells, and Sirius is allowed to come home with Remus and Andromeda. 

“It’s sheer co-incidence, finding the rat,” Andi says as they’re leaving. She has one arm slung around Sirius, and Remus has the other arm slung around him, so he’s held tightly between them. Sirius is quiet.

“Absolutely,” Remus agrees. “Though I think we’d bagged this even without that.” 

“He sealed the deal though,” Andi points out. Then, in a more gentle voice, she asks Sirius how he’s been.

“Oh, you know,” Sirius says. “Peachy.” 

“Let’s get you home, Pads,” Remus says softly.

 

“You know I would never have done it,” Sirius says to Remus once they’re back. Andromeda is scouting the cupboards for clean clothes for Sirius, so it’s just them in the living room. 

“I know,” Remus says. 

“I loved James,” Sirius whispers, his voice breaking on the sentence. Remus knows he needs to let it out.

“Padfoot, I know,” he says softly, wrapping his arms around Sirius, who gratefully melts into his embrace. “I didn’t think it was you.” 

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” Sirius mumbles into Remus’s shoulder.

“Let’s put that behind us, yeah? We need to ensure you get custody of Harry.” 

Sirius blinks, pulling away from Remus and giving him a look.

“Who do you think has him right now?” 

“I don’t know. Dumbledore was in charge, but I think Lily’s relatives.” 

“The Dursleys?” Sirius asks. “Merlin, Moony, they’re bigots, the lot of them. Harry isn’t going to be safe living with them.”

“Do you know where they live?” 

Sirius nods.

“March right in and take him back. Simple.” 

“You are not going anywhere,” Andi says, coming back in time to hear the last part of the conversation. “You need to rest after what you’ve been through.” 

“But Harry….” Sirius begins to say.

“Remus and I will get him for you. What do you say, Remus?”

Remus can’t help the involuntary smile that draws out of him. “Sounds like a plan.” 

 

“Hello,” Remus says, when the door opens. This is Petunia Dursley, he thinks, based off how Sirius had described her. “We’re here for Harry Potter.” 

“Good, you can take him,” Petunia says, seemingly uncaring. “He’s a menace, just won’t shut up.” 

“He’s an infant,” Andromeda says, her voice thin.

Remus and Andromeda follow Petunia in, despite not being invited inside. They watch as Petunia opens a cupboard. Remus guesses that this is where she keeps Harry’s clothes and things, and that perhaps she’ll give these to them first. Instead, she emerges holding a child with James’s messy hair and Lily’s green eyes.

“You’ve been keeping him in the cupboard?” Remus says, barely controlling his anger, as Andromeda carefully takes Harry from Petunia.

“I told you, he’s a menace. I never asked for this,” Petunia says coldly.

“I should report you to the police,” Remus says, equally coldly. 

“Remus, leave it,” Andi says, pulling him away. Once they’re outside the house, she says loudly enough that they’ll be heard inside, “We can always curse the house.” 

“I do know some wicked hexes,” Remus agrees pleasantly. 

 

It’s almost like the summer again, except this time with Harry. Harry’s most comfortable around Sirius, and Remus can tell that makes Sirius happy. They’re older now, more traumatised as well, but they’re a family now, and it feels right, living together like this.

 

“So, you and Andromeda,” Sirius says to Remus one night, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly. “When did that happen?” 

“Nothing happened,” Remus says. “There is no ‘me and Andromeda.’” 

“You call her Andi now,” Sirius says. “And I’ve seen the way she looks at you, like you’re conspiring on something together, but also sometimes softly and tenderly. You both share the bed some nights – don’t think I haven’t noticed. Don’t give me this hippogriff shit, Lupin. I know there’s something between you.” 

“No really, there isn’t,” Remus says. “At least, not that I’m aware of. Do you think I stand a chance?” 

“Remus,” Sirius says, using his _you’re being incredibly silly right now_ voice. “Of course you do. She looks at you like she wants to marry you. Ask her on a date or whatever, I don’t know. Just do something.” 

“Sure you’re not misreading this?” 

“She’s my cousin, Moons. I think I know her well enough to be able to tell, yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Remus says apologetically. “I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.”

Sirius looks at him for a long minute.

“You don’t need to doubt yourself, Moons. I’m telling you this thing as it is. Believe me,” Sirius says.

Remus looks at him and sees nothing but sincerity in his expression.

“Okay,” he says.

 

Later that evening, Remus gathers his nerves. He takes Andromeda’s hands and leads her out into the garden, where they both sip tea together and look at the sky. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a real date with me sometime?” Remus says. “One that doesn’t involve blackmail or kidnapping?” 

Andromeda turns to face him, gives him a soft smile. 

“I would like that very much,” she says. 

 

They kiss a few times before they go back indoors. Sirius, who’s curled protectively around a sleeping Harry, smiles at them both.

 

Remus had never thought he’d experience this much happiness before. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be honest........ this started out as a crack idea in my head but i think now i ship them for real  
> ANYWAY. hope you enjoyed!!  
> 10k words is a big deal for me lol


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